We Will Rock You
by Audley
Summary: Pun intended. Sequel to Terra and Me. Under the dirt there was blood.


Note: Written a while ago. Will make more sense if you read the prequel, Terra and Me, just to warn you.

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We Will Rock You

_Got blood on your face_

_You big disgrace_

_Somebody better put you back into your place_

_Singin'_

You hear Robin's voice, familiar yet not familiar at all.

_Come in, Beast Boy! We need you!_

_Come with me_, Beast Boy pleads, a final, hopeless attempt.

You reply,

_You go_._ You're the Teen Titan_._ That's who you are_._ That's not me_._ I'm not a hero_._ I'm not out to save the world_.

You slide back into the crowd, a nameless face, blending in easily. You can see him, see the disappointment and pain in his stance, and your heart is not aching for him as it should. You think you can just walk away from him like that? You're cold. Heartless. Shallow. And you don't feel guilty at all.

But you aren't entirely unaffected by him, and you can't deny it. His words are spinning around and around your head. His offer still stands. The temptation is there, taunting you, dangling a second chance in front of your face. You could go back at any time, become what you were. You know you could. The others might not accept you—but he would. You know he would. He still loves you.

Night falls. You used to love to stare at the stars at night, lay out on the ground, not caring about silly things like your clothes or your hair. Now you just shut the door and turn away, refusing to even glance at the sky.

Instead you head to the bathroom, to brush and floss and wash your face. It's late. You spent most of your day at school and now you're tired. You sigh and reach for the soap.

You see a smudge of dirt on your hand that you didn't notice before and frown. You rub at it with the soap, hoping it will go away. You stick your hands under the faucet the soap still clenched tightly in you fist, and watch the bubbles run down the drain.

You look at your hand. The dirt has spread. You scowl, sternly scrubbing at it . The white suds cover your hands, but underneath it you can see the dirt. It covers your entire hand now and you can feel it on there, packed into the lines on your palm, feel it crawl under your fingernails.

Frantically you snatch up a washcloth and scrape fiercely at your skin, hating the dirt, watching as it grows thicker and wider, 'til it covers both your hands and you can only stare at them in shock and disgust, horrified and not a little frightened.

They are caked with dirt, nearly black with filth, and with a cry that is as much fear as it is anger, you attack with your nails, scraping and clawing. You need to be clean, need to get this filth, this dirt, this black stain off your hands, see the fresh, pink, clean skin underneath..

You scrub harder and harder, ignoring the pain as your skin shreds away, the dirt with it. Finally you plunge your hands into the nearly-full sink of water, grinding your teeth together to fight the pain, making funny little snorts and grunts and choked sobs that confuse you until you realize your face is wet and tears are dripping onto the water.

You squeeze your eyes tight, almost sighing in relief as the water dulls the pain for a few seconds, but open them again a second later, a terrible feeling of wrongness welling up in you. You stare in horror at the water, which is rapidly turning red from your blood.

You lift your hands and stare at them, feeling faint. Blood pours down your arms, splashing onto the floor, but you don't notice. You're trapped in a trance, staring at the blood pooling from your hands, the angry red scratches, and you realize the dirt is gone.

But there was blood underneath.

Your eyes move slowly to the mirror, drawn almost against their will, and time seems to shriek to a sudden, screeching halt. You can hear every drop of water, every drip of blood as it hits the tile. The clock is ticking, louder and louder, echoing into empty space. You stand utterly still, transfixed. Each heartbeat comes slower and slower, louder every time. You feel as though your world has just been rocked by the scene before your eyes. You touch the mirror with a trembling hand, leaving bloody fingerprints on the face of the person staring back at you, purple eyes wide, hair tangled and wet, tears staining otherwise flawless skin

You stare at your reflection in the glass.

Terra stares back.

_We will we will rock you_

_We will we will rock you_

_Rock you_

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**Author's Notes**

Oh, don't worry. It isn't quite over yet. Another fic is forthcoming, I swear. Eventually.

Angst/drama/whatever this is isn't exactly something I can write comfortably, but I think I did an okay job. Let me know about that, and I'll also try to answer any questions you might have.

See you next sequel!

Audley Will Rock You

PS If you feel like ignoring the obvious pun staring you in the face, be my guest. Otherwise, embrace it. Or just don't think of it as a pun. Also, We Will Rock You is Queen's song. Not mine.


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